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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 months

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Stilgar x plus size reader

When the sand is still and the sun has set, you reflect on what has become of your life but there is someone unexpected who wishes to show you how valued you truly are

Warnings: some Dune 2 spoilers but nothing too major, suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, fluff, love confessions, hope , mentions of death and pregnancy

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You doubted that you would ever get used to the harshness of Arrakis. The heat and the perpetual dryness were a constant reminder about how far from home you really were but your duty was not to your own comfort, it was to your Lady Jessica. You followed her from the drowned planet of Caladin all the way here, protecting her and her son, as well as the unborn child within her.

The Fremen looked down on you, even after Jessica was named Reverend Mother and Paul became Muad'Dib, you were still the outsider, the one whose eyes had yet to be stained by the Spice. You got used to eating, sleeping and walking alone, the sand beneath your feet becoming the only thing you could count on. You trailed behind everyone else, they called you a waste of water and there were times that you couldn’t help but agree. You could not fight, nor harvest Spice, you were raised and trained to be a lady’s maid, destined to spend your days in the shadows observing the world around you as life passed you by.

You often wondered why Stilgar had fought so hard for you to stay with the Fremen when you had nothing to offer them. Even Lady Jessica couldn’t find a use for you anymore.

The moonlight cast a blue glow over the mountainous sand dunes and you could almost imagine that they were the ocean waves of your home planet. The camp was quiet, everyone having retired for the night an hour before yet you remained awake, deep in thought. No one would know you had gone until the morning, the wind would wash away your foot prints. You would give your water to the desert.

Just as you rose to your feet, a strong hand clamped down onto your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Why are you not resting Suhl?” Stilgar’s voice was quiet but it still held such power over you. You turned slowly in his hold to face him, yet he did not release your shoulder. His blue eyes shone like gems in the moonlight, making your heart jump and flutter.

“Forgive me for worrying you, I found that I couldn’t sleep.” You bowed your head. Stilgar tutted softly and hooked a finger beneath your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. His thick brows were pinched in confusion though his expression remained soft, far softer than you had seen him look at anyone else. He seemed doubtful of your excuse.

“How many times have I told you to come find me if you need something?” Your cheeks blazed with the heat of shame. Stilgar was a generous man, especially with those he cared for and inexplicably, he was almost too giving when it came to you. He gave you extra water when you had consumed yours too quickly, he showed you how to sand walk when your fear of the sand worms had mounted, he had even shared his tent with you on so many occasions that you had lost track of the number.

His hand shifted to your soft cheek, his calloused palm from a lifetime of fighting a stark reminder that you were not made for this life, this planet. “I can see that is not all that worries you Suhl. Tell me what troubles are clouding your mind.” You attempted to swallow down the thick lump trapped in your throat but when the older Fremen let his free hand wander to your lower back, his thumb gently rubbing the base of your spine, you choked on the tears you had not allowed yourself to shed.

“It is nothing.” You tried to deny and tug yourself away from the man that had been caring for you. Your eyes burned as he held you closer, a show of affection that you had never received before. He clicked his tongue at you, as if he were scolding a child.

“Suhl.” He cooed, dipping down to press his forehead to your own, the tips of your noses brushing together. You could no longer hold back.

The first tear that rolled down your full cheek shocked you both. It was quickly followed by another and another and another until they dripped down your chin and onto the loose white shirt Stilgar wore at night. You hiccuped and slumped into his strong chest. You clutched at his waist as you continued to sob but the Fremen, despite his constant insistence that absolutely no water could be wasted, gently rocked you back and forth, whispering comforting words into your hair, even if you couldn’t understand them.

“I shouldn’t be here. I should have been killed with the others when the Harkonnens. I am of no use to anyone and everyone knows it.” You pretend not to notice the way his muscles seize and he goes stiff in your arms, you wished to bask in his affections for as long as you could, before he too realised the truth.

His thumb ceased its movement and he slowly pried his chest away from yours. “Is that what you truly believe?” Your lack of an answer told him everything he needed to know.

He pulled you back into him, his thick arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders like he were fearful that you would suddenly dart away from him and into the desert where he could not follow you. Your eyes screwed shut as you curled into him. More tears stained his shirt but he did not flinch away from you.

“Do not waste your water on those who would not drink from you. You are better off crying for the dead.” A light breeze washed over the both of you, kicking up the sand around your feet. “You are not like us Suhl, you are soft where we are ruthless. It is true that you are not meant for this life but I would not have you take that light away from this world, not when I can keep you safe until this world is kind enough to let you bloom.”

“Why?”

His chuckle made your head bounce against his sternum. “I thought it obvious. You are my Suhl.” A hand came up to lovingly cup the back of your head, urging you to look him in the eyes. “Suhl means peace. And that is what you are: my peace. And one day, when the sands have disappeared beneath a sea of green and Dune is free once more, I hope that I shall be yours too.”

You can’t help but smile which in turn makes Stilgar beam, the blue of his eyes shimmering with what you now realised was love. “Thank you Suhl.” Your pronunciation was clumsy and most certainly needed some practice but still, he squeezed the base of your skull and dipped down, pressing his lips to yours.

The sun would rise soon and you would be forced back into the real world and all its dangers, but for now, you basked in the moonlight, safe in his arms. Perhaps Arrakis held more than just pain.

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 7: Are We Old Friends Or Old Enemies?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this 18+ just to be sure. References to Past Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Cursing, Blood, Guts, Graphic Death, (spoilers?), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

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Present Day

Your motorcycle crunches loudly against the black gravel driveway outside of Crimson Countess' trailer. It looks worse than you imagined, shoved behind Vought-land, and sprouting out of the ground like a fungus. Not an unusual thought given it's ogre-like inhabitant.

You weren't looking forward to seeing her after all these years, because you knew it wasn't going to end well. Deep down you hoped that she had let go of everything that happened in the past, like you had tried, well, until Butcher and Hughie showed up at your apartment. Then again, you're not sure that you've really let go of everything that happened. Sometimes it felt like you just shoved all your feelings into the deepest darkest part of your brain where they’d been festering for the past forty years.

And ever since Butcher and Hughie showed up, those feelings had been clawing their way out like a banished Titan climbing out of Tartarus.

You think again about driving away. If you saw her, there wouldn't be any going back. You couldn't go in there pretending to be your daughter, you had to be you. Which meant the possibility of losing the life you'd constructed in the aftermath that followed your long superhero career.

Was it worth it? Was Ben worth it?

You sigh considering that thought. After the fight it was difficult to answer that question. If the answer was no, you might as well just leave. But the answer was yes. You hated that after everything that happened between Ben and you, the answer was yes.

And that meant you needed to know the truth, needed to see it in her eyes. Which also meant there was only one choice.

You look around the clearing where the trailer sits. It’s in a circle of trees that filter the setting sunlight through their lofty branches, making patterns on the gravel where weeds and patches of grass break through every few feet like an oasis in a desert. Further down the road to the right you see a collection of empty circus carts that rust onto yellowed grass, rising from the earth to tangle in the wooden wheels of the carts.

At least the trees are pretty. You think to yourself trying to focus on the positive. They were, after all, one of your favorite things to paint.

You consider your apartment downtown, the open floor plan and large windows, very different from how she chose to live her life. Your eyes trace the mobile home thinking back about the fungus analogy.

The trailer was covered with peeling white paint stained black and yellow in some areas where sticky mold had begun to fester against the structure. The rickety porch was rotted, so much so that when you walked across it, it creaked loudly beneath your feet and you stepped around several foot-sized holes, where others had fallen through.

She definitely didn't budget her money well. I wonder how much money she got when she was a hero? I know that my salary wasn't amazing. Ben definitely did better than me because of his films.

Then again, you were living off money from your father, and your grandfather's investments in real estate, not to mention your artwork was selling better than it ever had.

Your knock against the flimsy front door of the mobile home, not using your supe strength, but the entire house still shakes.

Probably wouldn't withstand a thunderstorm. Hopefully she's invested in an umbrella.

No one answers and for a moment you hope that she's not here or she's dead, but just like always you’re disappointed.

"Who the fuck is it?" You hear Countess' familiar voice shout from inside.

A swarm of memories flock across your mind at her voice, but you push them aside.

"Your best friend in the whole world." You respond, before you can stop yourself. Sarcasm was an easy fallback. If your mother was here she'd say that it wasn't ladylike.

Really just disappointing her in every century. The thought makes you happy.

"What?" Countess rips open the door so savagely that you wonder how the door didn't come off in her hand. You watch her eyes widen and her face pale as her gaze lands on you.

Well, that's certainly not a normal reaction to seeing me.

"Y/n?" You hear her heartbeat spike in her chest. "You're-" She sputters to look for the right word.

"Alive? Yes." You smile at her. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Um-"

A flash of the last time you saw her comes roaring back. The smug look on her face when you caught her and Ben together, the way her face was flushed bright red, sweat dotting her hairline while he- You clear your throat to stop the memory.

You push past her into the small residence, not waiting for her to invite you, and your nose wrinkles as the smell of sweat and her rancid perfume invade your nostrils. It was barely two rooms, the small kitchen/living room was separated from the bedroom with a red beaded curtain that doesn't hide the unmade bed and clothes covered floor.

This was unusual given the fact that she was wearing her supe suit, complete with cape and mask. It was a little tighter in some places than you remember, her reddish hair reeked of cheap dye, her perfume like a cloud of sulfuric acid, and her pointed, cruel face was more wrinkled that the last time you saw her.

"I'd like to say that this is cute," You turn to look back at her from the small kitchen/living room, that was covered in dirty plates and take-out boxes. "But it's kind of a shit hole, isn't it?"

That was fast. So much for trying to be civil. Too much history I guess.

"What are you doing here?" She keeps her voice calm, but the tempo of her heart suggests otherwise.

Your eyes trace the lines of her face, the wrinkles, the subtle graying of her hair that the dye couldn't cover. "Just thought I'd check in. See how things are going. You definitely didn't age well."

"What the fuck do you want?" She snarls this time.

You can't help but smile at her. Something about this whole situation was utterly ridiculous to you.

She said Ben died. Why am I even here? What did she have to gain from his death? The thought swishes around in your brain. But then why was she afraid when she saw me? You think about all the times you spent watching her manipulate the others on Payback and all the other times you were around her, she never showed fear. Why now?

"I'm here because somebody showed up the other day asking me about Ben." You shrug, running one of your hands against the dirty kitchen countertop examining the tip of your finger as if looking for dust. "And it's funny, because as they were asking me questions I realized that you and I never talked about what happened that day. I mean I heard what you said through Stan and Legend, but I never heard it from you. Thought it was time we had a little heart to heart."

Her pulse spikes again, but she covers it with a smirk. "You want to talk about Ben?" Her voice drips with false sweetness. "Well I'll say this, he was a good fuck. But I'm sure you knew that."

Your entire body goes rigid, remembering the night that you found them together, the night after you finally told him you loved him and he pushed you away.

"I mean, after all, he popped your cherry didn't he? Made you a woman." Countess' smirk turns into a rueful smile. "You definitely waited long enough. Ben told me how long you’d been friends. He told me the sex was so boring, that you were so inexperienced, that he wanted a real woman who could actually please him. A woman who wasn’t quite so-." She sniffs, tapping a bright red fingernail against her hip. “Big.”

Her words are like a slap in the face and you feel the cold disapproval of your mother for the first time in eighty years. The anger that surges up underneath your skin flares hot against your cheeks.

Ben wouldn't have said that about me. He- he knew how special that was for me. He said that he wanted it to be special for me.

You remember how happy he looked when you woke up in his arms the next day, before you said the three little words that you couldn't hold in anymore, the ones that you had wanted to say to him since you were eight.

"Poor little y/n. You worshiped the ground he walked on for so long and finally he decided to pity fuck you. It’s so sad. You wasted your life pining for someone who will never love you. And you thought you could just come here and intimidate me? You’re still the same little girl who begged Ben to fuck yo-"

Her body flies forward telekinetically into your outstretched hand, that clamps down around her throat.

"But I do intimidate you." Your eyes shift to purple with your display of power. "Your heart rate hasn't dropped below 120 since I got here. So obviously there's a reason why you're afraid of me." She gasps against your hand, but you don't let go. "Tell me what happened that day." Your voice has slipped into a monotone, tinged with rage. “And I promise that I’ll let you live. In what condition, well, that's up to you.”

"I don't have to tell you anything!" She spits, pushing her hands together and sending you flying backward as the ball of fire hits you just under the right side of your rib cage.

There's a high pitched popping sound, an immeasurable amount of pain, and everything goes black.

It wasn't the first time you'd died. You'd heard of other supes being able to come back from the dead, and of course the others like Ben and Homelander who were almost invulnerable to injury, but your gift was different. Yes you had enhanced senses, speed, and strength, which were the original powers that were displayed after you received the injection of Compound V, but there was more to it than that.

It took you the first two deaths to figure it out, and you could remember both clearly.

The first was a few weeks after you took Compound V, when you and Ben were on his tour overseas promoting the might of the United States. It was supposed to be safe. The shot fired from the crowd was meant for Ben, but you pushed him out of the way. It was before you figured out he was bulletproof. Your gut reaction was to protect him as it always was. He ripped the guy in half for what he did and turned back to you. You remembered how he looked, remembered the fear in his eyes he never allowed to break through the façade he wore as Soldier Boy as he held you across his lap, holding a hand against the wound where blood poured freely from your chest. You remembered gazing up at him for what you thought was the last time and then the darkness that followed, welcoming you like an old friend.

And then thirteen seconds later you woke up, gasping for air, the bullet wound healed leaving only a circular scar behind. You didn’t understand at first, it wasn't until you died the second time that you realized how powerful you could be. The second time was Ben's fault, a scorned lover, a telekinetic, with a bone to pick with him. When you got in her way she'd snapped your neck with her powers. But this time when you woke, it was different, you felt different. You could feel her powers stirring beneath your skin, and it wasn't until you flicked her away from Ben that you understood. When you died a normal way you came back after 13 seconds, but when a supe killed you, you came back in 13 seconds with their powers.

You didn’t know why 13 seconds. In fact it was Ben that told you it was exactly 13 seconds, why he knew that you didn't know. It seemed that for everyone else 13 was an unlucky number, but for you it was the difference between life and death, literally. You also didn’t understand why you kept the powers. Sometimes you wondered if when you were killed by a supe your body analyzed how you died, understood it, and then you came back with that forbidden knowledge like you’d just eaten the fruit off the wrong tree.

Ben was the only one who knew and when anyone asked, you attributed your sudden ability to move things with your mind as something you never used in public. Having that much power scared you. You weren't sure what people or Vought would do if they found out, so you kept it to yourself and so did Ben. Honestly, sometimes you think the reason why he kept it to himself was because he didn’t want anyone to be more powerful than him, but you didn’t care about the abilities. You didn’t think you were a god despite Vought’s constant worship and praise. If anything, you felt closer to hell and in a binding contract with the devil.

Exactly thirteen seconds later, you sit up from the floor completely healed while Countess stands there over you, a horrified look on her face. She'd never seen you die before.

"Did you just try to kill me Countess?" You ask.

She puts her hands together to shoot another fireball, but you make a motion with your hand to that flicks her away. Her body soars backward illuminated in the purple glow that manifests with your telekinesis, into the small hallway that leads to the bathroom on the other side of the mobile home.

"You know," You stand from the ground looking down at your melted motorcycle jacket. "This was my favorite jacket. Had it from the 80's it was vintage. Damn.”

“How-“ She groans stumbling to her feet and leaning on the wall for support.

“We all have our secrets don’t we? And I'd love to hear yours."

Her eyes flash to where the front door is, but you beat her to it, yanking her back towards you by the arm, crushing her right wrist in your hand. Her scream of pain quenches the anger fueling in your chest from the words she snarled at you earlier.

"You're pretty worthless, even with your powers." You sigh. “I was hoping for more of a challenge.”

She cradles her broken wrist to her chest, backing away from you. Fear flashes in her eyes when she realizes that she's made a mistake, but instead of it making you feel powerful, it makes you pause.

Being a hero was difficult. You watched how so many others abused their powers over the years, feigning to be pure and heroic but really succumbing to dark urges when no one was looking. It was also why you hated Herogasm.

You hated it because you knew what happened to the normal people, the ones that thought they would be safe with the heroes they admired so much. You'd watched Ben lose control more than once, knew stories of innocent people that were hurt, not that Countess was innocent. But you never liked to hurt people with your powers. Standing here in this trailer made you guilty and watching her cower away from you made you guilty despite your shared history and her harsh words.

"So I'm just going to ask one more time, what happened to Ben?" You force your voice into a snarl, shaking off the guilt.

Because it was necessary. It wasn't just about you settling something from years ago, it was about Ben.

She deserves this, she isn't a good person.

"Go to hell." She spits at you.

You grab her by the front of her red suit and throw her away into the small kitchen. Countess' body crashes into the lopsided brown cabinets with a solid thwacking sound smashing through the flimsy structures. Blood drips down the side of her face from where she hit the cabinet corner, blending into her reddish hair. She rises from the ground with an angry snarl, clutching a dirty knife in her hand.

"I don't want to get tetanus from that. I can't remember when my last shot was-" You begin to say with a sigh.

She swipes the air in a vicious arc, but you grab her by the wrist, dodging the knife. "You never learn do you?"

The wrist twists to the side in your hand with a loud snapping sound followed by Countess' scream that reverberates in your skull as you break her other arm. "Pretty soon you're gonna be out of limbs, so I'd start talking."

Countess drops to her knees as the pain begins to seep into her body. "Fine. I'll tell you-"

"Then do it."

"He's not dead."

As the world stops spinning a high pitched ringing in your ears takes over, filling the monotonous drone of seconds ticking past. The past forty years no longer matter, the next hundred wouldn’t either, because Ben wasn't dead. As much as you hated him, the thought chilled you to your core, because then where the hell was he?

"Or at least he wasn't when they took him." She mutters, holding her arms to her chest.

"What did you do?" Your voice comes out in a whisper because you can hardly speak let alone comprehend what she's saying. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" You scream, grabbing her by the front of her suit.

"They wanted him." She spits.

"Who did?"

"The Russians. They wanted him and they took him!"

"You sold him out to the Russians?" You roar, hauling her up into the air so close you can smell what she ate for lunch. "Why? Did they pay you?"

"No. We all hated him!" She snarls. "But you were always around." Her mouth twitches into a painful smile. "It was so easy to get him to fuck me. I knew it would drive you away, you'd wanted him for so long and he didn't give a damn about you. And then you weren't there to protect him!" She laughs through the pain that builds in her chest.

I was right. She fucked him to make me angry, to get me to turn my back on him. I wasn't there to help him and they sold him out the first chance they got.

"He always wanted me more than you, knew that I could satisfy him better than you ever could. You really thought that he could love you? Ben doesn’t love anyone!” Her eyes glint with malice. “And you’re still the same pathetic little girl who begged Ben for his co-“

Her head tears from her shoulders in you hands cutting off her next words, the explosion of blood from her carotid artery spraying your face, and soaking into your ruined clothes. The ringing is back, filling the void of silence in the air that followed the tearing of bone and sinew.

You stand there for a minute holding it, not quite comprehending what you've just done. You hadn't lost control in a long time, not since you had the fight with Ben about Countess, or when you threw your sofa through one of the walls in your apartment and then broke every piece of glass, windows included, and had to move when you found out he was dead.

Or not dead. The thought chills you. Payback handed him over to the Russians, where he's been for the past 40 years? Why? Just because he was irrational, angry, and a dick? There's got to be more to it than that. Stan would have never allowed that. Soldier Boy was his golden boy, his meal ticket-

You think about the last forty years of hating Ben, cursing him, trying to forget him, wishing that you'd never loved him. The night you fought washes over you, bringing the anger, frustration, and heartbreak roaring back. The head in your hands smashes into mush as the memories barrage your mind, surging over the dam you built to keep them away.

You and Ben had always watched each other's backs. It was the promise you made to each other before all of this started, on the night he asked you to come with him and leave everything you knew behind. You knew him better than anyone else.

And yes maybe he fucked me once and I told him I loved him and he immediately went out and fucked Countess-

Your heart cracks in your chest with the thought, the heartbreak coming back in a wave of sadness that makes you shudder.

But you couldn't leave him, because you knew he would have never left you. Ben may have said that he didn't care about you, but you knew in your gut that Ben would have torn anyone apart who hurt you. He's always protected you. Even before you became supes together.

You stare back down at the mush coating your hands and the front of your clothes.

Why the fuck is everything so complicated?

********************************************************

When you get back to your apartment you're covered in a thin layer of soot, from blowing up the trailer, and a layer of blood and brain matter from removing and crushing her head. You hoped that by blowing up her home and burning her body with your newfound abilities that it would be enough to cover your tracks, but you were uneasy. The buzz of killing her and the shock of her revelation had worn off, but was now replaced with a numbness when you think about what could have happened to Ben, what could still be happening to him.

The shower does little to ease your mind and sleep evades you, despite the exhaustion that pulls at your limbs for using your powers. Dying usually meant that you needed to replenish that energy, but you couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do that. You just felt listless. The last forty years felt like a lie, felt like a waste, because as you’d been living your life Ben had been trapped in Russia.

So you open your laptop on the counter, wet hair soaking through your sleepshirt, and begin to research flights to Russia leaving within the next few days.

I have no idea where I'm going. I go to Russia and then what? Where in Russia? The Kremlin? Yeah let me just waltz right up to that.

You lean forward with your head in your hands thinking about Butcher. He came here because he wanted to know more about Ben. Maybe he knew where he was. He was the one who mentioned Russia.

You pull the card he left behind on your counter towards you, rubbing your thumb over the number. Legend said he kills supes. So is that what he wanted? To find Ben and kill him? The thought makes a chill travel down your spine, immediately followed by the primal urge to protect Ben. But what had Ben ever done to him?

You look at the number again.

If I call him, he's going to know that I was lying. Not that I'm scared of him.

You finally pick up your phone and dial the number, but it goes to voicemail.

"Hey this is Y/f/n Y/l/n. I just remembered a few things about Soldier Boy and thought you'd like to discuss them. Just give me a call-back whenever you get this."

You hang up the phone and sit there for a minute, eyeing the coffee that sits untouched next to your open laptop.

I killed someone today. The thought should be chilling, but you feel no remorse, no guilt.

Is that because I think she deserved it?

Your mind goes back to what she said about Ben sleeping with you, what he told her about you. The urge to cry rises in your chest with the memory of her words.

You remembered that night. You had been so excited. Ben had taken you out to dinner for your birthday, despite your insistence that you'd celebrated enough of those. The restaurant was quiet, secluded, different than the flashy world the both of you were living in. It had reminded you of before you took the Compound V, when you were still normal. The food was good, there was flirting and hand holding at dinner, and finally a slow dance when he kissed you for the first time.

And when he took you back to your apartment and to bed, it didn’t seem like a quick fuck, it didn't feel like cheap sex. The way he took care of you, held your hand, said your name, looked at you, held you close to him after, and the soft smile on his face that he had only when it was the two of you- it felt special. He made it special for you because he knew how important it was for you.

Tears slip down your cheeks. It would have been one of your favorite memories if you didn't know what followed, what was going to happen the next morning or in the next 24 hours.

"Guess it was just a lie." You mutter to yourself, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes.

The next morning when you woke up in his arms you couldn't help but tell him that you loved him, whisper it to him, more happy than you'd ever been curled against his chest. You remembered the way he looked at you, like you were crazy and then he left for his movie premiere even though we were supposed to go together muttering flimsy excuses as to why he had to leave. And finally the image of him and Countess in the bathroom crashes over you, sending shards of glass back into your heart.

You thought that by now you'd picked them all out.

More tears drip down your cheeks, as your thoughts drift back to Ben and the years that followed that night. You sigh considering what to do.

I wish I could just forget, wish that I could leave him, but I can't.

But that didn’t mean you had to forgive him.

**********************************

After a night of no sleep, you stand poised over the wooden chest in the back of your closet. Packing for the flight that left in two days was turning into a bigger task than you'd thought.

Your current wardrobe wasn't suited for storm the capital city of Russia and kill everything in your path to find Ben, it was more suited for late night painting and art shows. The amount of paint stained overalls, oversized band t-shirts, sweatpants, and dresses in your closet was astounding and none of which screamed "fear me." You would definitely need to go to the mall to find more things that you could move in, if need be, and find things that hid your identity. All it took was one photo or video linked online and everyone would know that you weren’t dead.

You knew that no one would be willing to talk to you, give up the information willingly, not to mention if you really had to break into the Kremlin it was not going to be a walk in the park.

It wasn't that you were out of shape. You still trained during the week, took self-defense classes, and worked out to prevent yourself from going soft, but fighting Countess was the first time in forty years that you had faced another supe and you weren’t up to speed on the supes that the Russian government employed.

You also didn't like the idea that you were going in blind. There could be any number of men there, any kind of supes, and anything waiting for you.

But the truth was, deep down you didn't care. What the rest of Payback did had ignited something deep inside you. You knew that people were going to die if they stood in front of you, but the urge to protect Ben rose above all else. Because you still loved him, despite everything he said, despite everything he did, he was still Ben after all this time and you couldn't let him go that easily.

You hold up your supe suit in front of you. It was made specifically for you, designed of a breathable material that made movement easy, not to mention the hood and mask did a wonderful job of concealing who you were.

I really don't want to wear this again. You think to yourself, eyeing the smooth material. It wasn't that you hated your suit, it was what it represented. If you wore that again, you'd be Indigo and you'd spent the past forty years trying to put as much distance between you and your superhero career as possible. You would be recognized instantly.

Could I even squeeze into this thing again?

You look at yourself in the floor length mirror on the opposite side of your walk in closet. You looked the same as you always had. Countess’ jeer about you being big makes you flinch again, bringing another cloud of insecurity over your mind.

Maybe that’s why he never slept with me before that night. Maybe that’s why he ran to Countess.

The thought is immediately followed by the image of Missy Callahan at your 16th birthday and how Ben clung to her. Then followed by your mother’s constant attempts to hide your figure. And finally, followed by all the other women you had ever seen Ben with. None of the others had looked like you. You shake off the urge to cry and look back at the suit.

Maybe I can paint over the purple, make it only black? Would that really change it that much?

Suddenly your phone rings, shattering the still silence in your apartment. For a second you hope that it's Butcher returning your call, but when you lift the phone to your ear you realize that it's something much worse.

"Hello?"

"I need you." The familiar voice says.

Shit.

******************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys series #the boys tv #soldier boy fic #the boys season 3 #the boys s3

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sanesuki · 20 days

Text

Dimples

Modern AU | What happens when an emo skater meets a clumsy ballerina? Two people with completely different lives. Both with clear interest in one another, too shy to make the first move. Love will bloom of course!!!

No JJK Spoilers!

Choso x Y/N

Word Count : 2.9k

——————————————————————

Choso was at his usual skatepark, doing flips and tricks on the railings. He would come here everyday after his classes were over, only for an hour or two. Ever since he was little, he had a passion for skateboarding. It was his own personal oasis, an escape from the uneventful school life he had. He would spend hours perfecting his skills, it was much more entertaining than studying his class notes. To which he didn't see a point in doing, not to brag but he was a naturally gifted learner. Unlike others he didn't need to constantly study for good grades, he would just spend the rest of his time doing other things. Skating was one of them. When he first started coming to this skatepark, his days kept following the same normal routine. Constantly attempting to learn new tricks, wanting to improve and be better.

He was alone all the time. Though he didn’t mind that. Or so he thought. Many felt intimidated by his presence. He has been told in the past by many of his classmates at school that he should smile more, that it looks more “inviting”. His life isn't miserable, he's okay with being on his own most of his time. But sometimes…. it’s a bit lonely. Of course, at home with his 3 brothers, he is the happiest he could be. He loves them dearly. But they have their own lives, their own friends, and their own experiences. So every morning when his younger brothers head off to school, the house seems emptier. His heart feels emptier.

Maybe all he needed was a friend. Someone to talk to. To spend his time with. But no one approaches him on campus or at the park. Is it the way he dresses? The way he carries himself?

Sure he's been approached several times by some females. But the way they look at him, like some eye candy, always makes him feel anxious. He doesn't like being looked at, like a prize to be won. His heart starts racing, his hands get clammy and his breathing starts growing slightly heavy. Unsure of how to respond, unsure of how to communicate, like the words won't exit his mouth. Why is it so hard for him to say no?

————

He didn’t have the confidence to look at the other skaters in the area. He couldn't look at anyones face, it would make him nervous. Eye contact is the hardest thing, he didn't have the will to hold a stare for more than 10 seconds max. So he just kept his head down. Walking to school, on the train, paying for groceries. Always looking at the concrete floor, counting every pebble he saw along the way. Occasional graffiti on the floor.

To ease his overthinking mind, he always made sure to bring his headphones. Clicking on one of the many playlists he has made over the years on spotify. It didn't take a second thought when he chose to purchase spotify premium, getting rid of those ridiculous ADs that made him jump once or two. Courtesy of his volume being on full blast to get lost in the world of music.

As he listened to the beats of the drums and electric guitar playing, headphones vibrating at the bass, he soon reached the skatepark. Making a beeline towards his usual bench where he sat down his bookbag and made sure to tighten his two spiky hair buns. He took a quick glance around, it was fairly empty today. Only two other skaters present other than himself.

He placed down his skateboard and stretched his legs before he hopped on and warmed up, simply zooming around naturally. Losing himself in the chords and tunes of the songs that followed in and out his ears. For the next hour he did his series of tricks all over the skatepark, and to his surprise he was the last one there. He must've not noticed the other two leaving.

Choso grew a bit tired and checked the time. He should be heading back now, his brothers will come home soon from school and he needs to get started on dinner. Swiftly he grabs his bag, but feels a bit thirsty. With that he reaches at the side pocket and grabs a water bottle. Twisting the cap as he starts sipping the liquid.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a bundle of pink in a building across the street. Thats…. moving? His eyes snapped in that direction towards the other side of the road, out of curiosity. He never noticed before but the building across the street of the skatepark seemed to be a dance studio. Big open window panels, giving a clear view of the inside. A ballet studio more specifically.

That bundle of pink happened to be a group of many ballerinas. He almost choked on his drink when he realized they were waving in his direction. He awkwardly looked around him, to see if anyone else was around. But it was just him. Choso looked over again and saw they kept trying to get his attention. He slowly pointed to himself asking if they were waving at him, and all the ballerinas nodded.

He stood there completely lost, embarrassed and shy on what to do next. He saw them point towards one specific girl in the group of ballerinas. Chosos eyes went to her and she looked to be attempting to hide. She was clearly embarrassed as the other girls laughed and pushed her to the front so she could be seen through the glass.

She looked over at Choso and even from afar, he could see the redness on her cheeks. He could already feel his own cheeks heat up at the sight. She stands out from the rest, despite the fact they were all wearing pink leotards and tutus. He couldn’t see the details due to the physical distance between them but he didn't need to. This girl was pretty. Really pretty.

His daze was broken when he saw what looked to be the dance instructor, walked into the room and started talking. The ballerinas all scurried away back to their spots to resume their dancing.

She stayed though. Her hand slowly moves up as she shyly waves to Choso. His heart raced as his hand moved on his own and slowly waves back. What's with him? He's usually so anxious about interactions with strangers. But the way she looked at him, the way her bun was a bit messy, her small frame and the pink tutu……..

He sees her reaction as he waves back, her cheeks reddening even more as she scurries away when the instructor walked over and teasingly nudged her. The entire room seemed to laugh at her embarrassment, all with good intentions though.

Adorable.

She was adorable.

And he likes it.

Choso was standing in the middle of the empty skatepark, lost in thought until his phone vibrated in his pocket. He sets his water bottle back in the side pouch of his bag and digs in his pocket of his black cargos for his phone. When he examines the screen he sees his little brother Yuji calling him. He quickly picks up without hesitation and immediately hears whining about how hungry Yuji is and wanting to know how long til Choso gets home.

Hearing this, Choso realized he lost track of time. Quickly apologizing to Yuji and telling him that he’ll be home in 15 minutes, then hanging up. Swiftly he plops his skateboard down and gets on it, but before pushing himself to go skating off towards the direction of his home, he takes one last glance at the dance studio across the street.

His eyes scan the group of ballerinas doing pirouettes, looking for that one person. It doesn't take long as she's at the end of the line. Surprisingly her eyes meet his at the same moment and her cheeks redden once again. To his shock, she seemed to be so caught off guard at their little eye contact that she falls out of her pirouette and stumbles to the floor.

It wasn't a hard fall, she quickly stood up and looked ahead the line to see if anyone in her dance class noticed. They didn't seem to. She sighs out of relief and then looks back at Choso. The curves of his lips turn upwards despite his protest and he couldn't help but laugh. He snorts at the scene that just happened, remembering how she fell and quickly got up at the speed of light.

He sees the way her blush intensifies likely out of embarrassment but her lips soon curve upwards as she laughs as well.

Choso couldn't help the smile that goes on his face, it's been a while he's had a good laugh like that. He feels a buzz in his phone yet again, putting all bets it's Yuji spamming his phone on how hungry he is. With that, he waves bye at her. She shyly waves bye to him and he sees the way her soul leaves her body when the dance instructor tapped her shoulder to focus. She quickly apologizes and gets back to it.

He pushes himself to go on his skateboard and it's only when he's about halfway that he realizes he still had that smile on his face.

She was adorable.

————

A week passed by and Choso has been looking forward to skating ever since that day. He would purposefully come around the same time, so he can see her. It seems her dance class is around the same time he arrives at the park anyways. He is embarrassed to admit how many times he fell or tripped because he zoned out watching you dance. Choso was never one to enjoy watching dances, he doesn't ever recall being remotely interested in the matter. But after viewing the way everyone moves in sync with their moves, he couldn't get ballet out of his head. Or maybe it wasn't ballet. But you.

Although you certainly were the clumsy type (which he couldn't get enough of as he chuckled to himself whenever you stumbled on your own two feet) he saw the way you didn't give up. You kept going, picking yourself back up and trying again and again. It was something he liked.

So after occasionally waving to you, when he caught you shyly staring at him. Multiple times by the way. Something came over him. He was never one to initiate conversations. He would much rather be kept in his own personal bubble. But she's different. He wanted to talk to her. To know her. This clumsy ballerina.

He’s had enough of just staring at you from the safety of the park. Choso was never the type to initiate conversation. For some reason today his legs moved on their own. He grabbed his skateboard and proceeded to wait outside the building, knowing your class is about to end soon. He leans against the wall, unconsciously fixing his appearance up. Making sure his spiky hair buns are in place, adjusting his chains on his pants, trying to make sure they’re untangled. Ah shoot, his eyeliner-

Before he could pull out his camera to look, he recognized the females from your class starting to exit the dance studio. Today was the day he decided he'd try to talk to you. He saw the way the other girls gave him encouraging thumbs up. His cheeks flush at the teasing smiles. Was it that obvious?

He took a deep breath and tried hyping himself up, “Alright I got this” he mumbles under his breath.

However, his tough guy act crumbled the moment you stepped outside. As cliche as it was, you were the last to exit. Or maybe it was the other girl's idea and they purposefully planned this. Who knows?

It was the first time he saw her up close. He knew she was on the smaller side as through the windows, he saw she was the shortest one of the class. But compared to his tall size, she was small.

Her eyes glance towards him and he could’ve sworn he heard his heart beating in his ears. She looks completely off guard as she shyly looks at him but doesn't walk away, simply standing there. Choso sees the way her fingers fidget with one another and how she starts biting her inner cheek.

Cute.

"E-excuse me! Uh, you... you got some time?" He said in a soft voice while rubbing his nape. Ah seriously? There goes his cool persona.

“Oh- yes I do… is there something you need?” she says in response as she gives a small gentle smile towards him. It’s his first time hearing her voice and it’s not helping his case. It’s soft like honey, and her smile is so inviting. And he didn't notice before since this is the first time he's up close but….

Dimples. She has dimples.

One of his hands goes in his pocket and he doesn’t know why. Suddenly he’s self conscious and it makes him feel like an idiot. What does he say? He should’ve thought this through, “I-I just…” he gulps “just wanted to say that I’ve been seeing you dance and…. I think you're really good.”

At first he thinks he may have said the wrong thing as he met with silence. But then a brighter and embarrassed smile appeared on her face as her cheeks grew slightly warmer, “oh my god how embarrassing. I'm such a klutz, I'm sure you've seen me fall a few too many times..”

He could already feel himself wanting to laugh. Though he holds it in for her sake. But she seems to notice and gasps. She covers her face embarrassed, “so you have seen!”

Choso couldn't help but burst out laughing and he waves his hand dismissively, “I promise i'm not laughing at you.”

“Yeah right! How lameee” she whines and takes a peek at him through the cracks of her fingers. Her eyes stared at him for a moment as she couldn't help but to giggle alongside him.

As the laughter died down, he hears her speak. “....What's your name?” she says looking into his eyes.

“....Choso” he says suddenly feeling all shy as he remembers what he came here for. He offers his hand to her, “And what's yours?”

“Y/N” she says as her hand slowly takes his and shakes it.

Her hand is smaller compared to his. He has scars all over, proof of his skateboarding hobby and the practices he does constantly. His hand was cold to the touch just as it's always been. While hers is free of any, soft as silk and so so warm.

He wants to continue holding it but he slowly lets go, “Do you live far from here?” he says to her trying to distract the sudden heat in his hand. The memory of her touch.

“Oh like 5 minutes going straight down from here, I usually walk” she says as her hand holds her other hand, like she's also suffering from the lack of physical contact.

“Well I live that way too…” he gets an idea and smiles at her “Ever ridden a skateboard?” he says as he plops his skateboard on the ground.

“Ah I haven’t, I'm too much of a klutz that my parents never even allowed me to get on one when I was younger” she says looking down at his skateboard with awe.

He smiles and gets on it, he looks down at her and offers his hand, “then today is gonna be your first day”. He didn't know where this sudden confidence came from. He struggled talking to new people, yet he's oddly comfortable around her. Maybe she's what he needed all along.

She hesitates but slowly takes his hand. Getting on the skateboard very slow, but when it wobbles a little she gasps and quickly clings to him. His cheeks flush but he says nothing, he wraps one arm around her waist. Making sure to not touch her with his palm and just support her with his tricep, “You can wrap your arms around me if you want, I'm gonna start us off slow now. Just tell me when we reach your house.”

She nods and slowly wraps her arms around his waist as they slowly skate off. She tenses at first but then opens her eyes. Feeling the breeze hit her face, the sun setting in the horizon, as they zoomed past other civilians. It was insane on how she missed out on this experience her whole life, a bright smile on her face as she looks up at him.

“Can we do this again?” she says with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Mhm any time you’d like” he says looking down at her, secretly admiring her face and those dimples.

————

He was alone all the time. Though he didn’t mind that. Or so he thought.

Choso didn’t know how he lived a life without Y/N. He wasn’t alone anymore. Their relationship only blossomed from that first day he dropped her off home. He understood the importance of laughter. And he couldn't and will never go back. She makes him happy. So whenever he finishes his skate practice, he waits for her outside the dance studio. Everyday. As they skate off holding one another.

They are from completely different worlds. The sun and moon. The Emo Skater and the Clumsy Ballerina.

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kimberlyeab · 6 months

Text

Undertale Yellow - Thoughts

Do you ever touch a piece of media and it hits you so hard that you just decide to drop all your artistic responsibilities for a day and write something to get your thoughts down into a single coherent place.

Well, uh… let’s talk about Undertale Yellow.

Please avoid if you intend to play and do not want spoilers as this delves heavily into topics laid down in the pacifist route. Also please note this contains content warnings for child death, so don’t touch if that ain’t your cup of tea. Like all Youtubers would say, please play the game before you read this, because this experience is best enjoyed in its original form.

The first issue i am struck with before getting too deep into this topic is that this is a fan project. While i, as a fan creator, enjoy feedback on my work; even if it is a little biting at times, i don’t know the pulse of the team in this regard. After all, this had no price tag and was purely a labour of love with seven hard years of development behind it.

i also don’t know how the development of this project was handled and if it was a collaborative effort from start to finish or different teams worked on different sections with an overarching goal. All i have is my own experience of modding for Hearts of Iron IV where my efforts were focused on singular nations and not overarching plots. If different sections were handled by different teams, please don’t take a critique or praise of any singular section as a slight against your work, it was all fantastic just some areas were more fantastic than others.

i enjoyed the mod, immensely, it stuck with me to the point that i had to come here and discuss it for what seems to be close to 2000 words. This project is something truly special, not only in terms of a fan game, but as a piece of media in general. It managed to make me feel that sense of magic I felt two years ago when i first played Undertale. And i can’t think of a higher praise than saying that.

The sprite work was amazing. The battles were fun and just the right amount of challenging… except Axis… fuck Axis. The music was a genuine banger to the point where i even liked some of the songs better than some of Toby’s work (i’m looking at you, the person who composed A Mother’s Love, that Hopes and Dreams drop ruined me emotionally for the rest of the run and i hold you and the writing team responsible for that).

And the story, gosh the story was just a real treat.

The mod in general is a bit slow to start, i’ll be honest, i did enjoy the tease at the beginning with Toriel and i think it was genius to cut us off from her entirely at that point. To me, a Undertale mod doing the ruins is like a Batman movie watching Bruce’s parents get gunned down. So, getting something refreshing here was a great foot forward. Actually, I think that the fact that this mod does not use the OG cast as a crutch is an all-around strong point that i really appreciate and helps set it aside as its own independent thing, different from Undertale. Even though I did find myself craving at least a cameo at times.

On my first day of playing, i witnessed everything that the ruins and Snowdin had to offer. i enjoyed Dalv and Martlet immensely. As I went into the start of the Wild East, I was having a lot of fun. Yet, something felt off, something wasn’t quite sparking the magic i felt with Undertale. So, I left off my first session in the Oasis, having beaten the third boss. All in all, an enjoyable time but not quite clicking.

i couldn’t describe why the game felt off up to this point. Until i watched a friend stream xeyre own first run of the game.

Xey said something during it which made me realize what the issue with these first three areas was. They felt safe, they felt fangamey. These were fun experiences with great atmosphere and enemies but Dlav and Martlet (up to that point) were not characters who grabbed me and made me feel as invested in them as say Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, and Undyne (all characters we would’ve met at a similar point in OG Undertale). Sure, they were nice, and were immensely fun, but i didn’t feel that drive to get to know them better and care about their greater story. These were not the characters of ask blogs and video essays.

At this point, i went to bed, content to get back to it tomorrow but still very much feeling like “this is a fangame.”

Then i woke up…

And let me telling you about Starlo and the town on the edge of the Wild East.

This is where Undertale Yellow grabbed me, this is where the story became something special. This wonderful cast of six unique characters who left me wanting to consume every piece of dialog they had available. These six characters managed to crackle to life that little fanfiction voice in the back of my brain. It was these characters that planted the seed of this sprawling text i am currently writing.

Starlo, himself, is a wonderful character, very fun, very well written, just a treat to experience and spend time with. His missions were comedic gold to a degree where I was cackling in VC because of how good they were. And the fights, oh jeez, the two fights in that area are where the mod really showed off what it could do when it came to combining fun gameplay, great music, and just top tier sprite work that helped give these characters so much substance and life.

And it was also in this section where i started to get invested in the characters. This is where the fangame vibes withered away and gave birth to that same experience i had playing Undertale for that very first time.

It was hinted at with Starlo, a monster putting on a façade to hide from the cold reality of being a member of a broken species living in an equally broken land. His reasoning is so tragic, yet through the tragedy, he is just trying to distract people and bring them whatever joy he can manage. His methods are faulty but his goal is good.

And Ceroba is just amazing, as well, hinting at something darker in the narrative, weaving her story into OG Undertale by experiencing loss to the same experiments that would haunt Alphys. She is something familiar, a mother in pain like Toriel, but also someone who didn’t let that pain keep her in hiding. She uses that pain to try and help this world. And it plays on me so well, making me genuinely ache as my mind idly wonders which amalgamation in the lab was once this monster’s little girl. I wanted to know her story and experience it.

Then the game was all high points from here.

The adventure in the Steamworks where we see the remains of a shattered legacy and the pain that Ceroba goes through when she realizes that her husband was never respected in life. It resonates as we learn how much he just wanted to help Monsterkind and his legacy was just thrown away and left to rot. It made me hate Asgore.

And then comes the plot twist, the moment the shoe drop, as we approach Hotlands and Starlo confronts us. He knows Ceroba’s secret and is there to keep us safe. I had never been so invested in finding out what any of this meant, craving to know what could possibly bring these two into conflict with one another after being so close just two sections prior.

And that’s when we go to Ceroba’s home. That’s where we experience the empty abode that used to house a family. It’s where we learn how this tormented world of captivity that broke them, one by one, killing father, daughter, and yes, even the mother. It’s where we learn about Chujin, a figure of mythos, this mod’s Asgore in a way. A man who knew that escaping the Underground wasn’t the end goal unless Monsterkind could assert itself and prove that it had a right to exist upon the surface. This moment was so compelling, asking questions that fans have had for years and answering them in a way that felt downright satisfying.

And it put a fire in my breast going forward. i feel bad for the individuals who wrote dialog for optional areas after this reveal because i was a woman on a mission at this point. There was no endearing encounter, no fun moment that would distract me from finally finishing this with Ceroba.

And as we reach New Home and face the enemy, a mother who has lost everything, with our friends by our side, that’s when we play the best boss fight, I’ve had the privilege of enjoying in a very long time. It was the right amount of difficult with perfect music, amazing phases and forms, and a wonderful use of the yellow soul to its full capacity. It was long and slogged out, fought tooth and fucking nail, all while the music perfectly weaves together Ceroba’s struggle with the adventure we’ve been on and also a little nostalgia just to remind you what’s at stake. i have slept and i still remember her piano bits combined with those little western twangs, bringing together two childhood friends before dropping Hopes and Dreams just to show you how epic it is. It is… HOLY SHIT… it is something.

And with every phase we see a little more of what this monster lost. We watch her husband wither away, we see her risk her daughter and fail, and we see every last thing this obsession has cost her. And we know that this is a family broken by a collective scar left upon a whole species. We know that humanity is at fault, subjecting a whole race to torment for something that’s generations old. This family is just one of many who our species has wronged, just one trauma on a whole ledger.

And as we finally dispatch her and feel victorious, the reality of the situation slowly settles in.

This is a prologue… we know how this ends.

Asgore has five souls right now. Yet, by the events of Undertale, he has six.

i knew on a logical level that this would happen but the mod still managed to destroy me with the reality. As our friends try and figure out a way to keep us safe, we, the Spirit of Justice, a child with a pure heart, know that we can’t let this slide. We saw what humanities punishment has done to this species and we know that we can help them.

So, Clover sacrifices their Soul. And its at this moment that i started bawling like a child, watching their friends bargain with them, then plead, then seeing them slowly come to terms with it. And the game slowly ends from there, watching our hero make this sacrifice and then send away their friends so they don’t have to see them die. It’s just us, alone, knowing that we did the right thing and it cost us everything. It’s beautiful and tragic, the perfect ending that still chokes me up thinking about it.

And it pays off as the credits role and we get an epilogue that shows all the monsters we’ve touched and made their lives better.

It was special.

This was the special that i felt after Undertale.

And like Undertale, i will never touch it again (unless i speedrun it). The story was completed and the sacrifice was beautiful. It would be wrong of me to erase the deeds that i’ve done to better these lives. i don’t want to erase their happy ending just to tinker around and extract every ounce of life from this game.

So uh, yeah, sorry to the people who worked on geno-run. i’m sure you did a great job but i can’t bring myself to hurt these characters.

All-in-all, sitting there in a VC, bawling at 3:30 in the morning, i knew this was unique and I knew that i wanted to share my thoughts with the fandom and maybe even the developers if they get around to reading this.

Dear devs, if you read this, you created something out of this world, thank you.

Sincerely, thank you.

Would I recommend this mod?

Let me tell you what I said after the credits rolled.

“Fuck this mod.”

Err… text kind of loses the translation of those words being spoken through the warble of a tear-stricken voice that was fresh from sobbing for ten minutes straight.

So, uh…

Yeah, it was alright!

Hey, y'all should join my Discord! It's multifandom and queer as fuck (Please be 18+ though).

Visit my website to see where else you can find my work, follow my socials, or support me!

#Undertale #Undertale Yellow

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banana-del-spray · 22 days

Text

I don't really write, but I had an idea for a bloodweave one shot and a long weekend, so I thought I'd write it lol.

NB: Endgame spoilers!

The Calm Before the Storm

“What in the sweet hells are you up to Gale?” the pale elf exclaimed as he wandered carefully, his arms drifting around, searching for obstructions in his path. Gale stepped behind Astarion, placing a guiding hand on his shoulder,

“Just trust me, my love. It's a surprise, I told you.”

“Well I'm glad you used a blindfold this time, instead of just casting blindness”

“Well a blindfold IS less reliable for the task”

The two chuckled lightly as the wizard guided them both towards the outskirts of Baldur's Gate.

Gale had ushered Astarion out of the camp early in the morning with an excitable grin on his face. Despite the danger that usually resulted from Gales hubris, Astarion found it more and more difficult to say no to the wizard’s whims as time went on. After all, he thought, this is the man who saved him from himself. When he was faced with the irresistible lure of Ascension, almost drunk with the idea of immeasurable power, it was Gale that helped him realise what really mattered. Even now, he shudders to think that he nearly fell victim to the same path that Cazador once walked.

It was a stunning morning in the sword coast. The two men walked in comfortable silence to the outskirts of the city and, as the sun rose, the sky turned from amber to cerulean, although he couldn’t tell, “are we there yet?” Astarion asked, adjusting the satin kerchief around his eyes. “Nearly,” Gale replied, “just a little more patience.”

As they walked, he focused on the senses that were not obscured to try and figure out their destination: the buzz of grasshoppers ringing in the fields; the gentle breeze that kissed his skin; and, of course, that comforting scent of the man in front of him. His scent of musk, rich amber and, of course, books, that was utterly and uniquely Gale. As he turned his focus to the crunch of grass beneath his feet, he felt the gentle pressure of Gale’s hand against his chest, guiding him to a stop, “we’re here,” he said as he gently untied the blindfold.

His eyes adjusted to the now-risen sun, and found that Gale had taken him to a clearing at the edge of a small forest by the city. The clearing overlooked the city, which seemed so unaware of the turmoil the group had faced in recent weeks. And there, just by their feet, a blanket with a woven basket sitting on top. He looked to Gale, body shifting slightly awkwardly as he was now second-guessing the idea, “It’s well…. Um…. a picnic,” he explained to fill the pause, before gesturing towards sitting down. Now, being frank, a picnic was not Astarion’s usual idea of a pastime. In the past, “fun” usually meant debauchery and hedonism - not quite an early morning picnic. Now, however, his heart felt full at this gesture. Had anyone ever taken the time to surprise Astarion like this? He couldn't remember. The only “surprises” he could remember were the “prizes” Cazador gave him for bringing unsuspecting patrons back to the palace: a distended rat, if he was lucky.

He stood, a subtle smile on his face while he stared at this sweet, sincere gesture and this sweet, sincere man. “I knew it, you think it’s cheesy,” Gale sighed as he rubbed his forehead, “It's quite different from the parties you've told me about, I know you were more into bars, and live music…” he began to ramble nervously. In truth, for Astarion, he felt it was perfect. After 200 years of shit, pure shit, even small moments like this were like an oasis in a desert, “My sweet,” he interrupted and the smile grew, reaching his eyes, “I want nothing more.”

He took Gale's hand and let him onto the blanket, who groaned about his aching knees as the two sat down. “What would you like to drink? I have coffee,” he paused to rifle through the basket, “and I do know it's early for this, but I have got some Ithbank, which I know you prefer,” he rifled some more, “or some Asahaba Dusk,”

“Coffee is fine for now,” Astarion chuckled, it still seems so strange that this wizard, who once was Mystra’s chosen, could still be nervous about the mundane. From the basket, Gale drew a kettle, then summoned a small flame beneath it. As the gentle murmuring of the bubbling liquid grew, so did the aroma of coffee. He then produced two small metal cups from the basket, of which he emptied the coffee into. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to Astarion.

Astarion gently grabbed the cup from Gale, “So,” he said, lightly blowing into the cup, “what’s this about?” He tested the temperature with a sip.

“What do you mean?” Gale said, as he filled his coffee with milk and sugar; he much preferred tea.

“This,” the elf said, gesturing around to the picnic, “I mean it’s lovely but,” he took another sip, “what’s the occasion?”

Gale took a sip of his drink, the bitterness had been mediated finally by the overwhelming sweetness. It wasn’t great, but it was tolerable. “No occasion, I just thought it was a nice day, and well” he paused to shift his weight back into his unoccupied hand, “it’s been a moment since we had some alone time,” he groaned slightly as he extended his legs out, “what with, killing vampire lords, tyrannical dukes and murder cults,” he took another sip, “I just wanted to seize this opportunity.” He sighed, and took another sip, clearly unsure of what to do with his hand at this moment.

Astarion eyed Gale with slight suspicion, he knew there was more to this, but he was worried probing further would upset him and ruin this moment. He painted a smirk on his face, “hmmm, ok then,” making light of his suspicions. It wasn’t worth delving further, he decided. He finally started to drink his coffee, strong and bitter, how he liked it. Although his diet was primarily sanguineous, he still enjoyed the rituals of certain things, like fine wine and coffee. He joined Gale in reclining, and continued to drink.

“Oh!” Gale interrupted, “I also came prepared with these!” He said and brought out two sizable books from the basket, “What is that, a basket of holding?” Astarion jested, “Aha, I wish!” Gale replied, and handed Astarion one of the two books, “It’s called ‘Yoshimo is Willing’ - I can’t attest to the quality, but I’ve heard it's quite popular,” Gale opened his copy and began to read. Astarion shifted closer to Gale, and leaned into him, before opening the book, and joining him.

Reading is what brought the two together. When Gale first joined the camp, they both had a mutual disdain for each other, which wasn’t helped by the fact they were often made to set their tents adjacent to each other, which led to rising tensions. It was only when Gale spotted Astarion reading “Devil Don't Rhyme,” which was the same book he happened to be reading at the time. They both found it awful and revelled in tearing into the text. Soon after, the act of reading, side by side, was the pair’s favourite part of the day. As the trials and tribulations of the day came to a close, Astarion found himself looking forward to resting in his camp and reading beside the man he once hated. There was a simple comfort in the action, and one he thankfully found to be reciprocated. The rest of the camp would joke about their “book club,” but for them it was something they quietly cherished.

And today, Astarion found himself in that quiet peace, once again. As he leaned into Gale, he could feel the gentle warmth of the sun beating on his skin; he would never tire of this novel feeling. A gentle breeze draped across him, and the grasshoppers gently continued to chirp. The city seemed so far away, along with the noise and stress and danger that came with it. He stared at the pages of the book, his eyelids becoming heavy.

Gale could not help but stare, completely unable to focus on Yoshimo's salacious adventures. The stress of making sure this day was perfect had melted away.

The elf was impossibly beautiful. His skin was like alabaster, while his hair caught the sunlight and shone like quartz. A beautiful jewel, sitting here and resting so gently on his shoulder. He had loved a goddess before this, but nothing seemed more ethereal, more beautiful, than the man drifting to sleep beside him.

His eyes were fixated on Astarion, as if he was trying to burn this image into his mind forever. Without thinking, his hand began to gently brush through the silver hair. The elf shifted slightly, as the gesture clearly lulled him closer to sleep. Gale had seen Astarion steal, fight, murder and beg, but seeing him like this, so vulnerable, was always the most surprising. His hand trailed from his hair and he started to trace his cheek with his fingers, then his nose, his jaw, and then, his lips. Those defined, yet soft lips. Gale found himself pulling those lips towards him, meeting them with his.

Astarion woke with soft surprise, lips pressed against Gale’s. He pulled his mouth away slightly, “I do rather like that, you know,” his mouth widened into a smile, “As do I,” Gale whispered back, pulling Astarion’s head closer and kissing him deeper. Gale’s breath quickened as his tongue pressed between their parted lips, and hand moved down. His heart was pounding with desire, and he moved his hand under his shirt and felt Astarion’s cool skin as he held his lower back. Astarion could feel Gale’s warmth as the wizard slowly leaned forward until he was directly on top of him. Needing to breathe, Astarion pulled away from the kiss, caught by surprise by the look in Gale’s eyes. Where he was used to seeing tenderness, he saw a desperate urgency, like a balloon trying to contain a storm within, and ready to burst. “What’s wrong, Gale?”

“Nothing, my love,” he said between breaths, and leaned in to kiss again. Astarion placed his hand on Gale’s chest, gently pushing him back,

“Seriously Gale,” he said, firmly, “this isn’t like you.” He slowly shifted away from under Gale and began to sit up. Gale recoiled at the rejection, also sitting up and sighing. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, “Ok,” he relented.

The day was still warm, but a few clouds began to pepper the sky, occasionally interrupting the sun. The two were reclining on the blanket, facing each other as the faint scent of coffee faded as the drinks cooled.

“Tomorrow-” Gale started, “tomorrow, we’re facing the Netherbrain.” He paused as he tried to find the words to say, the silence no longer comfortable, “After everything we’ve been through, I almost feel like we can do anything we set our minds to, you taught me I was enough” He cupped Astarion’s cheek, “we were enough - but -” His eyes darted to the ground, as he dropped his hand down again, “but this truly feels impossible,” Astarion placed his hand over Gale’s, “At best, we defeat it, clear the tadpoles and you never get to see the sun again.” Gale swallowed as the words became stuck, “at worst…. At worst….” he pointed to the orb in his chest.

The fragility of both of their situations, of their relationship, had been a painful truth that they had both ignored.

Gale swallowed again as his eyes began to well up, “before we confronted everything,” he continued, mouth twitching with discomfort, “I… I just wanted to give you one more day to enjoy the sun, to enjoy this,” he gestured to the view of the city, “and for me to enjoy, well, us.” He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, unsure of what to do with himself, “I’m sorry, I tried to make this perfect for you,” he trailed off, burying his face with defeat.

Astarion moved closer, “my darling,” he said, stroking Gale’s hair, “you don’t need to try, you’re perfect as you are, and so are the moments we share,” he paused and smirked, thinking of the many near-death situations they have encountered thus far, “well, most of them,” he corrected with a chuckle. He placed his hand under Gale’s chin and raise his head again, meeting eye to eye, “things aren’t looking great for tomorrow, I can’t deny that,” he paused to search for the right words, “but I’m not afraid, not of mindflayers or netherbrains, not of the sunlight, and certainly not of that” he said and mimicked Gale’s gesture towards the orb in his chest. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that nothing is for certain - I’ve spent hundreds of years clawing through each day, just trying to survive.” He continued to play with the brunette strands, as the dispersed silver threads caught the light, “so these moments, the present, are all we can be sure of,” A warm smile grew, “and spending them with you, well, that's enough,” he rested his forehead against Gale’s, his voice now almost a whisper “you brought my cold, dead heart to life, Gale, and no matter what the future brings, I will never regret these moments.” They both sat in brief quietude, simply enjoying each others’ presence.

“Thank you, Astarion,” Gale whispered, breaking the silence, “I can be a fool sometimes, you’re absolutely right,” with a deep breath, the tension eased from his body, “they say, misery is the thief of joy,” he said, returning to his usual cadence.

“Besides,” Astarion sat up and cleared his throat, “I thought we all made it clear that you are not going to do anything with that,” he pointed firmly to Gale’s chest and playfully pushed him backwards, “it would be a waste of a perfectly good Gale, after all,” he jested.

He climbed over Gale, and leaned his face close with a mischievous grin, “As you rightly said, tomorrow might be a shitshow,” he paused to briefly kiss him, “so let’s enjoy today as much as we can, darling,” his lips meeting Gale’s once again.

Gale gently pushed Astarion up, confusing him with the gesture. Then, with sudden strength and dexterity, he pushed Astarion to his back and positioned himself above the elf. Leaning closer, he whispered into Astarion’s ear, “once again, you’re absolutely right.”

He kissed Astarion with a deep passion, once again, but now with confidence and certainty. As they kissed, his hand explored Astarion’s body. The angles of his collar, his broad shoulders, his pale chest, the skin smooth and cool to the touch. He playfully bit Astarion’s lip before breaking from their kiss, both breathless from the moment. Gale and Astarion looked at each other, with fierce desire in their eyes. He moved his lips down, his tongue tracing the lines of Astarion’s body, who moaned gently with pleasure. His hand pulled them closer together, both feeling the want building within their bodies. He closed the gap between their mouths once again as his hand trailed down Astarion’s torso, removing the clothing that separated them.

Gale grew dizzy with desire, as he saw Astarion lying beneath him, his fang biting onto his lips as he breathlessly waited for the next move. It was too difficult to hold back any longer. He entered Astarion and the two bodies melted into each other. “Gods, yes” Astarion moaned and with each thrust, pleasure built between them. All of the stresses, the worries, had worn away, leaving only their lust and their bodies moving together in rhythm.

The sun had begun to lower in the sky, and the two laid together, calm and content. They had dressed again, but the clothes draped with less finesse than when they arrived. Astarion took Gale’s hand in his, “We didn’t really enjoy the sunshine that much,” he joked as he leaned his head closer to Gale, “I guess not.” Gale chuckled back.

“Well,” Gale started, “we should probably start heading back.”

“Yeah, we probably should,” Astarion agreed, though neither made any effort to move. The air cooled as the sun slowly began to set.

“We’ll be ok, Gale.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 companions #astarion #gale dekarios #bloodweave #bg3 fanfiction

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cozage · 10 months

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The Meaning of Justice: Chapter 4

Yuba

You’re a Marine who’s always been taught to trust the process. And you always have, until you meet a certain pirate who won’t stop pestering you to join his crew.

Alabasta Desert < | > Next Chapter | All Chapters

Characters: female reader, Strawhat crew, Vivi Word count: 2.3 Cw: Alabasta Spoilers A/N: After months of being on hiatus!!! Shes back :) A short one, but the updates will hopefully be coming more frequently!

You slept with the Strawhats that night, though it was considerably more cold without Ace present. You cursed him for not waiting until morning to depart, but you managed to fall asleep for a few hours despite the desert chill.

The Strawhats trekked quietly through the desert for the entirety of the next day. Most people were too exhausted to speak, but Sanji offered several times to carry you through the sand if you wanted. You politely declined, though every time he asked you got a little bit closer to saying yes.

It wasn’t until sunset that you came across another town. At first you thought it was rubble like the first one you had come across, but Vivi explained that you were now resting in Yuba, an old oasis town.

“I know it’s a little dried up,” an old man called from the bottom of a hole, gathering your all’s attention. “But you’re welcome to stay if you need a place to rest.”

“We’re looking for the rebel army,” Vivi explained. “We heard they were in this city.”

The old man scoffed. “Those fools left a long time ago.”

Luffy’s mouth dropped to the ground. “They WHAT?!”

“With the oasis and the supply runs dried up, the rebel army packed up and moved its base to Katorea. Hope you’re not planning to join it. They’re a bunch of no good, rotten-”

“Katorea?” you questioned. You were fairly certain you knew where that was on a map. It was back where you started. And judging by Vivi’s face, you were correct.

“That’s impossible,” Vivi muttered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“What’s wrong Vivi?” Luffy asked. “Is Katorea close by?”

“No.” Vivi’s lip was trembling, confirming your suspicions. “It’s an oasis near Nanohana.”

“Vivi?” The old man climbed out of the hole and walked closer to the princess. “Did you say Vivi? Is that you?”

Tears of familiarity streamed down the old man’s face. “You’re alive! Thank goodness! I have faith in his majesty. He’s not someone who would ever betray the kingdom! Oh, Vivi! Please tell me you recognize me. I may have lost some weight, but…”

“Toto?”

“Yes! Oh Vivi, I’m so happy to see you alive and well!” The old man grabbed Vivi, pulling her in for a hug as they both cried.

“This rebellion is ridiculous,” Toto said, holding the princess tight. “They intend to settle things once and for all with their next attack. Their backs are to the wall. You must stop their foolish behavior, I beg you!”

“We’ll stop them,” Vivi promised. “We’ll find a way.”

“Oh, thank you!” Toto cried. “Please, you all rest at the inn. You can get started on your journey tomorrow.”

You changed into the pajamas the old man had offered you and gave yourself a good, long stare in the bathroom mirror. You had only been with the Strawhats for a few days, and you were already so unsure of yourself and your decisions thus far. You knew that not every pirate was like this crew, but they made you feel hope. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all. Maybe you could give them a chance.

That chance was ruined the moment you stepped into the bedroom, when a pillow came hurling at your face and smacked into you with surprising force. You shot a glare around the room, but nobody seemed to notice. All of the boys were screaming at each other, beating one another with their own pillow. The girls were hiding in the loft, and you made a sprint up the stairs to safety, dodging a few flying pillows on the way.

“Those morons,” Nami groaned, and you grabbed another stray pillow that flew at you all.

“I have a pillow, shall we call it a night? The boys can figure themselves out, I think.”

Nami and Vivi both looked at you for a moment, and then burst into laughter. The three of you receded into the loft room, which held an extra large king bed.

Normally you would’ve opted to sleep on the floor, but after a few nights on the sand, your back was begging for the relief of a soft mattress.

“Do you think we can all fit?” you asked, trying not to get your hopes up.

“Of course!” Vivi and Nami said in sync, which caused you all to laugh. Those two were always in sync.

“I’ll sleep in the middle,” Vivi offered, jumping onto the bed.

Both you and Nami quickly followed suit and joined her beneath the covers. The bed was plenty big for the three of you to sleep comfortably, and you could feel your eyelids starting to close the moment you laid down. Nami clicked off the bedside lamp, and the three of you were plunged into darkness.

“The boys won’t ask, but I’m not scared,” Nami said to the darkness. “You’re not going to betray us once we get back to civilization, are you?”

“No,” you answered.

It was the truth, too. You were pretty sure you’d do almost anything you could to make sure the Strawhats got away from the Navy unscathed this time. Not because of your promise to Ace, but because of how much you believed in them. Even if it wasn’t conventional, their hearts were mostly in the right place.

“Good,” Nami whispered. “Because I don’t want to have to make Zoro beat you up. I kinda like having you around.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you mumbled, and you closed your eyes. You could hear Nami and Vivi give a light giggle as you swiftly slipped into sleep.

You didn’t mind sleeping with the Strawhats anymore. Despite the noise the boys caused, you found it easier to fall asleep amongst them than any night on your navy ship. You chose to blame it on the amount of energy you were exerting each day. You refused to believe it was any other reason.

When you woke again, you could feel a person pressed against you. As you opened your eyes, the soft morning light shone in from the window to reveal the blue haired princess curled tightly against you, Nami pressed against her. Between Nami and Vivi was a ball of brown fur: Chopper, you realized after a moment. He must’ve crawled into bed with you all at some point during the night.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a way to silently escape the bed without waking anyone up, but the moment you moved, Vivi’s eyes instantly popped open.

“What time is it?” She sat up, looking around for any indication of the answer to her question.

“The sun just started to rise, I think.”

“We need to move,” Vivi said. “It’s going to take at least three days to get to Katorea. If we hurry, we can get there before the rebellion leaves.”

You hopped out of bed and towards the steps to the bunkhouse. “I’ll go wake the boys, you take your time getting ready.”

“Y/N?”

“What’s up?” You looked back at the princess, who seemed to be nervous.

“I’m sorry for the things I said in frustration about the Navy the other day,” Vivi said. “I don’t think you’re like that.”

You gave her a genuine smile. “Don’t sweat it. The Navy is far from perfect, I can acknowledge that. I hope I can make it better in the future. But I’m glad that you found help in the meantime.”

Vivi looked over at Nami and Chopper, who were still fast asleep. “They are an unusual group, aren’t they?”

You gave a light chuckle. “They are definitely not what I was expecting.”

Waking the boys was harder than you could imagine. Nobody would move for anything you said or did. You screamed, threw pillows at their head, and even smacked them a few times. You weren’t making any progress at all until Nami came down to assist. She took one glance at them and shook her head in disappointment.

“What’s that?” Nami yelled. “There’s a helpless girl cooking meat in Sanji’s kitchen with a sword? And now the Merry is on fire?!”

All four eyes snapped open and the boys stood in front of their navigator with full attention.

“What’s happening?!” they cried in unison, all equally panicked.

She gave them a glare. “We’re leaving.”

The boys all grumbled, but they gathered their few belongings and packed up to set off across the desert back to Nanohana. You all thanked the old man for the hospitality, and he gave Luffy some Yuba water, straight from the oasis that had been buried by sand long ago.

You hadn’t walked more than an hour before Luffy began another one of his temper tantrums. He sat down in the sand, folded his arms, and began to pout.

“I quit.”

You stared at the pirate in shock as Vivi scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“I want to kick Crocodile’s ass. We can’t do anything in Katorea anyway. There’s a rebellion. That rebellion won’t stop Crocodile. Stopping a rebellion is more of Marine work. I’m a pirate and I want to beat up Crocodile. Vivi, you want it so nobody gets hurt. You want everyone to stay safe and sound. But we're up against a warlord and a rebellion. Don’t you think you’re being too optimistic thinking we can do both?”

Sanji stepped in front of Vivi, trying to shield her from his captain’s words. “Now hang on a minute, Luffy-”

“How can you say that!?” Vivi cried, storming past Sanji and to Luffy. “What’s wrong with not wanting people to die?!”

“People die.”

Vivi slapped the pirate so hard she made him fall backward. “Stop talking like that! That’s exactly what we’re trying to stop here! Nobody has done anything wrong except Crocodile! Nobody deserves to die!”

Luffy grabbed her arms and pulled her down on the ground, and then rolled over on top of her and pinned her against the sand. “Then why are you putting your life on the line?!”

You started to move, desperate to protect the Princess, but Zoro held you back. “Hang on a minute,” he mumbled, his eyes on the fight. “Trust him.”

You were tense against his grip, but you stayed where you were.

Vivi pushed Luffy off of her and pounced on top of him, immediately beginning to punch his face.

“As if putting your single life on the line is enough!” Luffy spat at her, taking the punches.

“What else should I put on the line?” Vivi shrieked, her fists still making contact with Luffy’s face. “I don’t have-”

Luffy grabbed her hands, stopping her mid punch. You could see the princess was completely defeated by the massive undertaking that was bestowed upon her.

“I don’t have anything else I can put on the line,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Luffy pushed the princess off of him, more gentle with her this time, and sat up to face her. “At least try putting all of our lives on the line together! Aren’t we friends?!”

Vivi finally let out the tears that had been welling up in her, sobs coming from her as she buried her face in her hands. Nami rushed to her, rubbing her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.

Luffy however, was not one for comfort. Instead, he stood up and brushed his hat off. “You can cry those kinds of tears. I know this hurts you most of all. Now tell me where Crocodile is.”

Zoro finally released you, and you nodded to him in thanks. It seemed that Luffy knew what he was doing, even if nobody else did. You wondered what kind of bond had been formed between the swordsman and his captain for trust to exist so easily.

Once Vivi settled down, you all changed course slightly, heading for Rain Dinners and Crocodile now. The walk was spent in silence until you saw the pyramid that signified your arrival to Crocodile’s territory. Surely there would be navy men here. You couldn’t be spotted wandering in with the Strawhats during your arrival.

You cleared your throat, hanging back from the group. “Thank you all for your hospitality, but I can’t arrive with you.”

“What do you mean?” Luffy asked, clearly confused. “Aren’t you joining my crew?”

You gave him a shocked laugh. His question no longer irritated you, but it still did surprise you. “No, Luffy. I’m not.”

“But I want you on my crew!” Luffy whined.

“She’s Navy, Luffy. Just drop it,” Zoro said, watching you carefully. You gave him a respectful nod.

“You can come with us!” Sanji fawned. “I’ll protect you and feed you forever!”

“She said no!” Nami yelled, smacking both Luffy and Sanji simultaneously. “Leave her alone!”

You looked to Vivi now, letting the crew fight amongst themselves. “I’ll do what I can to get the Navy involved. I hope we can make a combined effort to take down Crocodile.”

“The Navy?” Zoro scoffed. “Fighting on the side of pirates?” He gave you a smirk, clearly aware of what kind of hole you’d be digging yourself if you presented it that way.

“I’m not making any promises,” you explained through clenched teeth. “But I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks for all your help,” Luffy said. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon.”

“We’ll be enemies,” you warned.

“Nah!” Luffy flashed his signature smile and readjusted his hat. “We’re friends now!”

Everyone turned away from you and headed off to the city, leaving you alone with flustered cheeks. A pirate shouldn’t be calling you a friend. And yet, that’s exactly what they were. Your heart ached watching them leave, but you were fairly certain Luffy was right: you would meet again soon. The sea had a funny way of making that happen.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #luffy #zoro #nami #princess vivi #cozage

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whinlatter · 6 months

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author's note: chapter 10: reared & chapter 11: hatched 🐣🎇

thank you for reading chapters 10 and 11 of beasts (and especially for being patient with the bumper doubled up author's note). this time, ginny has a bad new year's eve (attends the world's most triggering party, slops booze down her old love rival, loses to her boyfriend at butterbeer pong) and then an even worse new year's day, featuring boggarts, the hangover from hell, the inevitable consequences of her own actions, and cormac mclaggen. nightmare. if you slog through all this you'll get a sneak peek of chapter 12 so that's my ploy to try and get you to endure my takes on liberal subjecthood and girlhood again. shameless! alright - let's do this.

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut ✨

writing notes and headcanons:

parties: i almost called chapter ten party animals. you can be glad that i didn’t. but wow writing parties is hard! you have to keep track on like 30 different attendees! it ends up like choreographing a musical number. and then i had to come up with costumes for all of them AND fun drinks names. nightmare. never again. i only did it to make all the memes

haunted house: ‘they have a house party then ginny gets trapped in the house with both her ex boyfriends, her boyfriend’s ex and also cormac mclaggen’ was a chapter concept i mentally wrote back in february lol. it’s too delicious. i wanted the teenageness of it - the sloppy lazy hangover vibe the day after a house party, but added all these layers of fear and the waiting game with all the left-behind characters. the garden as relief was important, but also the wild overgrownness of it, unmanageable untamed. i have lived in flats in the kinds of london townhouses grimmauld is based on and they very often have these big scooped out brick walled gardens below street level that are just so atmospheric and oasis like but also usually kind of a mess and overgrown. so count this as a love letter to a london garden

ginny and sirius: in these two chapters, the flashbacks are entirely ginny’s memories of sirius black - specifically, of teenage ginny’s attempts to connect with this veteran, someone she canonically cares for and admires, who i think would be something of a god in her eyes, partly because he’s hot/cool/can turn into a dog (slay) but mostly for his enormous self-sacrifice and martyrdom for his friends and for the cause, even before his actual death. i’ve talked about the canon parallels between these two characters in the first of a two part meta here, which lays out my thinking behind sirius and ginny’s relationship as rendered here (ie. sirius would quite like ginny, perhaps see shades of james in her - hence the snitch - but she would always care more about him, and about impressing him, than he ever would about her). one of the most important lines of sirius’ in canon for me is the one he yells at the weasley children the night their father is attacked: they (understandably) just want to go and see their dad, but sirius, as kindly but as firmly as he can, tells them that this is both naive and also counter to what the order of the phoenix exists to do: a resistance organisation that is all about self-sacrifice for the greater good (“This is how it is — this is why you’re not in the Order — you don’t understand — there are things worth dying for!”) through sirius, we learn, ginny began to form a set of ideas about some very important things for her: about how to survive, how to preserve a mind, and about what it means to fight, especially when being held back and deliberately kept out of the fight. all pretty formative in ginny weasley’s book, i’d say. i wanted ginny’s memories of sirius to be very triggered by place, trapped back in this very claustrophobic, very sensorily dense and evocative house. i knew i wanted moments where we have ginny actively drift off into reminiscences in the present timeline (getting caught drifting off fleabag style by ron before the party) or seek out spaces to remember (going into walburga’s bedroom). where previously the flashbacks have been less active and less visible acts of ginny remembering, more standalone cutaways than examples of a character actively going into a memory, it was important to me to start to show memories becoming much more like intrusive thoughts ginny can’t push away as her defensive coping mechanisms come under increasing assault.

animagi: one of the big things ginny first badgers sirius about is how to become an animagus. ginny’s interest in becoming an animagus does, at first, come from a place of childlike awe (especially from an animal lover). but, as ginny eventually hints to sirius, it’s also a reflection of young ginny becoming very interested in possible survival strategies to get out of facing awful memories she’d rather not think about every time a dementor comes to town. she sees sirius becoming the dog as an escape both from literal prison and from the prison of the mind. sirius suggests it’s not quite as simple as that. we’ll be returning to these ruminations in due course….

traitors: as @ashesandhackles’ gift of a question suggests, one of the big themes at work in these chapters, particularly chapter 11, is betrayal and - particularly - the figure of the traitor. as ashes points out, we see a whole lot of traitors mentioned to varying extents (from canon: pettigrew, percy, regulus, sirius himself, marietta, mundungus, kreacher, xenophilius, snape, andromeda…). in c.10 these themes are more dormant, little passing asides (the banality of evil, lol, and geri halliwell betraying the spice girls aka the worst act of treachery in 90s britain). but in c.11, we see the memory of past traitors and the prospect of future ones come to bear: the DA’s interrogation and fear that dean might not be all that he seems, and then rabastan lestrange getting killed by his own brother for, as harry suggests in his analysis of rabastan’s murder, betraying a set of ideas and a worldview that pre-existed voldemort and now survives him. so far in the fic, we’ve seen ginny reflect on questions of the soul as an inherently moral entity, its existence imbuing all who have a soul with the capacity for good, if not compelling them to always do it. here, i wanted to start introducing questions of where the choice to do bad comes from, the big nature vs. nurture, question, because i think this question would not just interest ginny given her own set of experiences (and you can speculate what those might be, because we will be returning to them!), but also because it speaks to a broader set of themes and questions that beasts is trying to expand upon that thread through canon. i don’t want to spoil too much for a future plot point, but needless to say this is a fic that tries to ask questions about selfhood, people’s nature, about motivation, intent, and choices, about childhoods and why people grow up to be who they are and make the choices they make – and also about wizards’ claim of superiority over all other magical beings because they have a monopoly on morality, on conscience, on justice, and therefore, as the most rational, civilised, self-governing political subjects, have the right to make and enforce law over other magical species. the existence of the traitor, for these characters who made moral choices to resist during a war fought over right and wrong, is a fascinating litmus test for any society grappling with the enforcement of justice, what it means to try to do good, and the circumstances under which people choose not to do good - as kingsley’s speech at the end of c.11 suggests, what it is in a person’s development that might lead them in one moral direction or another. “is this who we are?” kingsley asks, and the answer really might be: yes, actually.

the girls’ getting dressed: a) it’s literally always the best bit of any party and b) yes it’s important that hermione granger not just looked hot but wanted to, and that her and ginny had the first meaningful conversation they’ve had with each other while they’re pulling on hoe fits and doing sleakeazy treatments. female friendship arc engaged. also nymphadora tonks just definitely had hot cool 90s clubbing fits don’t know what to tell you (recs below)

the DA: what was fun about writing the party, though, was getting to try and show ginny among her fellow soldiers, and, especially, harry getting to see it. we know that canon ginny is popular and well liked by her classmates pre the war, but the experience of the DA under the carrows (as future flashbacks will show…) would be an intense bonding experience for many, and, i think, of the three leaders (neville, luna, ginny), it would be ginny that would become perhaps the most important emotionally to her fellow soldiers on the basis of her personality, compassion and empathy. in these chapters, you see those who *were* at hogwarts during the war have their guard up, exercise stiff safety procedures, and those that *weren’t* - especially harry - start to clock how much the war changed the DA from duelling fight club to a resistance organisation with military capabilities and procedures. what this means for hinny, of course, is harry, knowing that ginny is keeping things from him, starting to put together that that persecution and torture neville spoke breezily about in the hog’s head tunnel that time might actually have been, er, real, and that ginny might have had her own direct experiences of it that she hasn’t shared with him…

the slytherins: @titaniasthings sent me this ask ages ago about slytherins and i very rudely banked the ask to talk about another day. and i'm not even going to answer it now! i am hugely sorry about that, but i will answer it in due course, so this is me publicly apologising and basically promising to get back to this question, because i think it’s both very interesting and also one of the weakest points of canon that fanfiction can help right in really interesting and productive ways. for now, let me just say theo nott and daphne greengrass’ presence at the party is me flagging that i DO think there are ways that slytherins would have engaged with the DA and with resistance during the war, for lots of different motivations, and look forward to developing this further as this lovely little inquiry gets underway…

deamus: is this deamus or is it dean/rio ferdinand (unrequited)? who’s to say

cormac mclaggen: yes everyone is under attack from a renegade bunch of vigilante wannabe death eaters but you should never let that stop you from going to pound town

cho and ginny: me, posting a sneak peek that looked like it was ginny dialogue but it was actually from cho… 😈

i’ve talked a bit about my thoughts on cho and ginny’s relationship elsewhere, and had this scene written for ages, because i a) think it’s funny when surprising characters call the protagonist out on their shit and impart the most useful wisdom (michael and cho have both played this part so far lol) and b) i wanted ginny’s insecurities about cho, which are understandable but come from a place of teenage rivalry and are quite juvenile, to have to give way to something more mature between them, as part of a coming of age growing up arc. in c 10 we get their petty interactions, judging each other for their outfits, clearly frosty, but in c 11, we see ginny and cho accidentally have probably the most important conversation ginny's had with anyone in ages. ginny has to face up to the fact that since 1995, cho chang has grieved and lived with a reality that ginny fears enormously - the death of the boy she loves - and also all the repercussions that came with it, including the impact of it on her own quidditch ambitions. the cho we see has done a lot of work on her own grief and now has a remarkably healthy reflection on what it is to grow up and to both forgive yourself and release yourself from dreams you had as a child, while also recognising it’s ok to mourn the future you hoped you’d have when life gets in the way. for hinny purposes, i also wanted the memory of cho’s distress and harry’s inability to handle it to resurface before the hinny fight, because i think cho’s weepiness and attempt to ask harry for emotional support would be pretty influential on ginny’s decision to try to avoid doing that at all costs. (ashes also pulled out my agenda behind the cho changing in front of ginny moment: “the difference of Cho's comfort with changing in front of people i.e women vs Ginny - it shows how differently each have built friendships and at what stage in their lives”. cho chang had close female friends before ginny or hermione really ever did and it shows!

rodolphus lestrange: ‘a huge day for rodolphus nation’ - aka just @saintsenara. i have never bought the idea that rodolphus is pure flop and bellatrix is the instigator in their marriage for them joining the death eaters - my personal take is that the lestranges are the gateway for the black sisters being drawn into the orbit of death eaterdom, and am especially a fan of a big age gap between bellatrix and rodolphus, meaning that rodolphus was in the first wave of death eaters/voldemort’s school gang or at the very least an early follower, and that that’s how bellatrix gets drawn from low key pureblood supremacist politics of the black family into the paramilitary activities of the death eaters. i *like* the idea of death eaters who aren’t just thugs for hire but have a real political worldview and a programme that they will continue to pursue after voldemort’s death, and am excited to explore that in the fic (and what it means for plans for postwar reform and societal rebuilding). slay from roddy, basically

ginny’s boggart: thank you to this lovely anon both for the regulus-ginny parallels note and also for asking about ginny's boggart! i am however going to be an arsehole and stay zipped lip on this one for now (we will find out i swear), but just for now to say: i wanted the boggart to both add atmosphere and a lovely sense of oppressive dread (hiding in a broken clock, a forever waiting game), but also ginny’s inability to bring herself to draw it out and face it to be a sign of her struggling to force herself to process dark memories that are proving stubbornly haunting…

the hinny fight: you all have had the patience of saints waiting for this scene fr. pls know this fight took me absolutely bloody ages to write lmao. fights are hard when you want people to be flawed but neither person really be in the wrong! here we have ginny, finally letting out seven years of resentment at being left out, patronised, and over-protected: harry, calling her on the fact that she’s clearly trying to protect him from things that really bothering her, letting her know how hurt he is that she’s excluded him from her ongoing ordeal - but also, in getting her to finally tell the truth, having to face up to the thing he hasn’t wanted to face up to, the possibility of ginny’s enormous sufferings during the war that he literally broke up with her, naively, to try to avoid. it’s a long scene – 4k words lol - but i really wanted the fight to have distinct stages, a crescendo, a cooling off period, building ultimately to a quiet moment of confession from both characters. harry finally says out loud what ginny has become to him, his fears about what happened to sirius happening to her, how lost he feels in a world where he is no longer the chosen one, and the hopes he has for him and ginny as a little family around which he wants to build a future amid uncertainty about literally everything else. ginny finally admits what it is in her past that has shaped how much she is prepared to trust and confess to another person about her fears. and so we leave them having finally aired out things that needed to be said, but lacking direction about how to resolve them. they’ve got work to do, baby (and i’m super excited to share how they’re going to do it). will be posting part 2 of the sirius and ginny meta v soon, which discusses in more depth how the memory of sirius, and especially of his death, influences harry’s ideas about familial love and especially his overprotectiveness when it comes to ginny. stay tuned for that. it’ll be real sad, sorry!

harry left holding all of his eggcups once ginny’s gone back to school:

songs from the playlist for these chapters:

i would personally like to take this opportunity to call out ginny weasley for having such a sad adolescence that i had to write about it and listen to phoebe bridgers the entire time and therefore fuck up my spotify wrapped. that is all

the songs for chapter ten (party party party) are wall to wall bangers. two tribes, with siren, right before the auror alarms go off! yesssss. also slow show is the most romantic song ever written about a party and a person’s dick (‘standing at the punch table swallowing punch’, ‘you know i dreamed about you/i missed you for 29 years/before i saw you):

playing around before the party starts by childish gambino | i predict a riot by the kaiser chiefs | paint it black by the rolling stones | two tribes - we don’t want to die version by frankie goes to hollywood | slow show by the national

the songs for chapter eleven are much more subdued, quiet (hangover-proof), songs for a waiting game. the mitski song is this chapter's manifesto and also is the harry-sirius-ginny arc anthem, i will not be persuaded otherwise (you're an angel, i'm a dog/or you're a dog and i'm your man/you believe me like a god/i'll destroy you like I am). i wanted duets, too, especially men and women duetting together, to echo the conversations that happen across both of these chapters (between sirius and ginny, dean and ginny, and then harry and ginny). and had to have auld lang syne cos it’s bloody new year for GOD’s sake:

ps. the new beyonce song could easily be harry to the DA at the end of chapter 11. get the fuck out of my house!!!